Dark Water
by NoCleverSig
Summary: Druitt goes to rescue Helen in the Yucatan but the two find themselves trapped by a mysterious force as well as their memories.
1. Chapter 1

**Dark Water  
(Copyright 2010, NoCleverSig)**

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing of Sanctuary or its characters. I just play with them.  
**Spoilers:** Season 2, after Eulogy and before Haunted  
**Genre:** Angst! Adventure! Romance! Comfort! Whump! It has it all :)  
**Plea**: Please review! Provide feedback! Good/constructive, it's all good. Thanks!

**Chapter 1**

Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

John Druitt could feel it in his bones. Anxiety crept over his body like tiny insects, nipping and biting. He wanted to claw at it. Rip it. His skin stung from it.

He looked up and squinted at the hot, Moroccan sun. His prey, yet another Cabal scientist, was only a few feet away. He had stalked her for three days, watching, measuring, assessing, and waiting until just the right moment. He was in no hurry. The anticipation itself was exhilarating. All he had now was time. And his vengeance was patient.

But the tingling, the stinging wouldn't stop. It teased across his skin like a Whitechapel whore, distracting him from his purpose. There could be only one explanation, he thought, and it frightened him beyond measure.

"Helen…" he breathed.

And with a curse and a flash of light, he was gone.

* * *

"I don't know. I can't explain it. She was there, and then she wasn't!" Henry Foss threw up his hands in exasperation.

Will Zimmerman kept his voice calm over the Skype call, choosing his words carefully and trying desperately not to show the panic rising inside him. He had to keep focused. Had to think. Hysteria solved nothing. Calm reason was his ally. If Magnus were here, that's what she would say. Of course, she wasn't here, and that was the problem.

"Just go over it one more time, Henry. When was the last time you heard from her? What was Magnus doing?"

Henry looked up toward the ceiling and rubbed his eyes with his fists, growling in frustration, then took a deep breath.

"Okay…okay….Uh….she said she was going in. She had the sedative ready. She was going to take the Keek'enkay down, bag it, and bring it back."

"Alone?" Will asked incredulously.

Henry shrugged and shook his head, half ashamed. He'd told her she needed back up. Asked her to call Will or Kate or one of the Sanctuary crew in Mexico City to go with her. But the Mexican Sanctuary had its hands full with a system malfunction, Kate was assisting a capture in Malaysia, and Will was at a conference in L.A. She said she could handle it. She'd spotted the creature with the ROV (remotely operated vehicle). It was lying on a ledge in an upper part of the cenote, wounded, but alive. She had her GPS locater and a camera clipped to her wet suit. And if she worked fast, she'd be done and out before the storm stirring in the tropics was anywhere close to her location. Henry could see everything that she saw and could get help if there was trouble. But there wasn't going to be any trouble, she said. The Keek'enkay was hurt, likely incapacitated, which was why she needed to go in now, before it was too late. She'd get in, sedate it, and get out. Easy-peasy. God, what an idiot he was!

"It's not your fault," Will said, reading his friend's thoughts as they played across his face over the laptop screen.

"Yeah, it sort of is. The doc's the boss, Will. But even I knew this was wrong. This is cave diving, for Christ's sake, in the middle of the jungle! It's freak'n dangerous as hell. I should have stopped it. Gone with her at least."

In the days since Ashley's death, Magnus had grown reckless. Will saw it. So did the Big Guy. Henry too, although Will knew he was trying to ignore it. Dr. Helen Magnus hasty? Careless? Out of control? Not the Helen Magnus they knew. But then again, this wasn't the Magnus they knew. This was simply Helen, a mother who'd lost her only child. Dr. Magnus they could handle. Helen was a stranger to them.

"Can we send a chopper?" Will asked.

Henry shook his head. "No way. Too much jungle, too little visibility. It took Magnus three days by jeep to trek from Merida to the site. And we've got a tropical storm in the Caribbean that's tracking straight toward the Yucatán." Henry paused. "Will, that cenote, that sink hole, is…no one knows how deep it goes. If Magnus went in, if she's injured, she only has enough oxygen for…." Henry stopped.

"We're not going there, Henry. Not yet. Magnus is alive. We'll get to her somehow. We just need to think it through."

"Whatever we do it's got to be fast," Henry said his face ashen. "There's no time."

As he said it, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He could feel the atmosphere in Magnus's office change; smell the red heat before he saw the flash of light come toward him.

"Where is she?" the voice demanded.

John Druitt, dressed in black pants, black shirt, and black leather duster towered over Henry. For a fleeting second Henry thought Satan himself had risen from the depths of Hell.

Henry froze.

"Damn it, man, answer me!" Druitt shouted.

Will could hear the commotion in the background. It took a second for the shadowy figure on the small screen to register, but when it did, a mixture of fear and relief washed over him.

"Druitt!" Will shouted into the mic.

Druitt snapped his head toward the monitor and with one quick stride stood over it. "Where is she?" His voice calmer now, but no less urgent.

Will hesitated. He didn't trust John Druitt. Never would. He could see all too clearly Jack lurking just below the surface. But with Magnus's life on the line, trust was a luxury he couldn't afford.

"The Yucatán. She's on a retrieval mission for an injured abnormal. We lost contact with her 20 minutes ago. She's alone."

"Alone?" Druitt bellowed. "Damn it, Helen," he muttered. "Where?"

"Here," a voice answered from behind him.

Henry pulled up a map on a second monitor lodged on Magnus's desk and pointed to a spot on the screen. In a flash, Druitt was by his side, leaning over his shoulder.

"Right here, about three days south of Merida. It's a large cenote, one of the deepest sink holes…anywhere."

"How deep?"

"Divers have reached 450 feet, but even from there they couldn't see the bottom. The Mayans called it _Sabak Ha._"

"Dark Water," Druitt murmured.

Henry looked at him, surprised. "Yeah, that's right."

"What was she doing there? What was she after?"

"Something called a Keek'enkay, a rare, super rare, abnormal. Our contacts in Mexico City said a native spotted what sounded like the creature a a few days ago and took a shot at it. He wasn't sure if he'd hit it or not. Magnus went down to check it out. When she got there, she found blood, but no abnormal, so she assumed it was wounded but maybe alive. She took the ROV, started checking the cenote, and found it lying on a ledge under the water, about 20, maybe 30 meters down. She was suited up and ready to go in when…I don't' know. Everything went dead. We lost contact with her, the equipment, even the freak'n GPS. Everything." Henry shook his head.

"It was lying under the water? Surely it's dead then." Druitt said.

"Not dead." A gruff voice came from behind them. The Big Guy walked into the room, one of Magnus's books in hand, and dropped it on the desk in front of the men.

"Here." He pointed to a picture in the book with a short description underneath.

"The Keek'enkay can breathe underwater." Bigfoot said.

Druitt took the book and hastily scanned it. The Keek'enkay was a mammal, native to Central and South America. Less than five, it was thought, existed in the wild. None in captivity. Dog like in size and appearance, but hairless and equipped with gills on the sides of its head and a barbed tail that emitted a toxin designed to stun and disorient its prey. They were thought to frequent the cenotes of the Yucatán, chasing wildlife into the darkened sink holes and then diving in to retrieve them.

He slammed the book shut and dropped it on the table. "I'm off."

"Wait!" Henry said, reaching for something across the table. "Take this with you. It's a satellite phone. Contact us when you get there. Maybe we can help."

Druitt looked at him but didn't respond. Given what he'd seen so far, Helen's rag-tag team had little to offer in the way of assistance. Nevertheless, he grabbed the device, stuck it in his inner pocket, and in a flash of light he was gone.

Henry looked across the room at Will.

"Did you catch all that?" he asked.

"Yeah."

They didn't have to say a word. They both knew what the other was thinking. They'd just sent Jack the Ripper on a rescue mission.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

John Druitt materialized, just barely, in the depths of the Yucatán jungle.

For a moment, he'd been blocked. Something had barred his transport, his ability to reassemble. The sensation was one he hadn't encountered before, and he had a hard time reconciling it. He counted his good fortune, though. He had slipped in, found a hole in whatever it was that was shadowing this place, and had managed not to materialize inside a tree. The same energy that had thwarted his jump was likely jamming Helen's transmissions, he thought fleetingly. Whatever it was had made for a bumpy ride, and his stomach jostled from it. He fell to his knees, resting on his haunches, closing his eyes, trying to stop the spinning in his head, the nausea inside.

He stood up shakily after a moment and took an appraisal of his surroundings. The jungle here was thick and dark. A snippet of a poem, Blake, came unbidden to his mind.

"_TIGER, tiger, burning bright  
__In the forests of the night,  
What immortal hand or eye  
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?"_

He smiled. The parallel was too obvious.

He turned and looked for the cenote. Nowhere in sight. Likely another effect of his difficult transport. He wondered how far off course he was and looked up at the sky, which was growing heavy with clouds, to get his bearing. Unlike most moments in his life, time was of the essence. And he cursed at how much of it already had been wasted.

He did a quick, mental calculation of his approximate position and headed south at a run, diving and avoiding the snarled plants and vines that whipped at him. Five minutes later, he saw it. The cenote looked like a peaceful pond. Still and tranquil. A mask of the deep danger that lay beneath.

On the right hand bank laid her backpack and equipment. He scanned the shoreline for Helen, but she was nowhere in sight. Called her name, but received no answer. His heart raced. That tingling, nipping sensation returned again. She was in the water. He was certain. And if she'd been there as long as her staff suggested, she may very well be dead already.

He pushed past that thought, sucked in a deep breath, and prepared to teleport himself into the pool of water below. It didn't work. That same feeling, like an EM field but stronger, blocked his ability. Frustrated and angry, Druitt threw his duster to the ground, kicked off his shoes and socks, and undid his buckle and pants letting them drop to his feet. He ripped off his shirt, not bothering with the buttons, and dove in.

He was met with nothing but inky blackness. True to its name, Sabak Ha was so dark, so murky; Druitt could barely see his hands in front of his face. If he couldn't see, how in bloody hell was he supposed to find her?

He thought back to what Foss had said. Helen had seen the creature lying on a ledge, 20-30 meters down. Using that as his clue, Druitt made his way blindly to the side of the cenote. Getting his bearing now, he dove deeper, scissoring his long, powerful legs through the greenish black water. His lungs strained from lack of oxygen. He tried to calm himself, knowing the faster his heart raced the more oxygen his body absorbed and the quicker he would lose consciousness. Pushing deeper and deeper, the murky waters of the pool suddenly cleared, and he could see Helen and the creature lying on a ledge not 15 feet from him. He kicked harder, spots beginning to form in front of his eyes. Helen was unconscious, maybe dead, he couldn't tell. He wasted no time. He wrapped one arm around her and used the ledge to push off toward the surface.

With only one arm to swim with, Helen's dead weight against his side, John kicked as fiercely as he could to pull them up to the top of the water before unconsciousness overtook him. He pushed passed the deeper, clear water into the murky green, unable to see once again, praying if there was a God to lead them to safety. Suddenly, he could make out filtered sunlight and broke through the surface with a gasp. He pulled Helen to the edge, pushing her body up and onto the bank. He scrambled out, breathless, tore off her dive tank, her respirator, her mask, and held her in his arms.

"Helen!" he yelled. He patted her cheeks trying to revive her. He leaned down to feel her breath, check her pulse. There was none.

"Helen!" he shouted again.

He laid her on the ground and began CPR through her wet suit. Tilting her head back, pinching her nostrils closed, he placed his lips over hers watching her rib cage rise and fall once…twice.

He moved to her chest and began compressions. One…two…three…four…until he reached 30, then back up to her mouth…one breath… two breaths. Again, one…two…three…four…30 compressions. "Damn it!" he shouted. "Wake up!" One breath, two breaths….

She coughed. Her eyes fluttered. He turned her on her side so she could cough the liquid out.

When she was done and breathing clearly, Druitt closed his eyes, sat back on his knees, and thanked whatever God there was for answering the prayer of a wretched man such as himself.

"John?" he heard her say.

He opened his eyes and saw Helen looking at him. Her brunette hair, a sight he would never fully grow accustomed to, hung in wet tangles against her cheeks. Blood trickled down her forehead. Druitt pulled up her bangs and saw a gash, an inch long and deep, in the top of her hairline. He turned around and grabbed his coat, ripped the pocket from it, folded it, and held it against her wound.

"Hold your hand here," he told her, guiding her slim fingers to the patch of cloth. She nodded.

He turned back around, bundled his jacket into a ball, lifted Helen's head, and set the duster beneath her. He scanned her body quickly looking for signs of more injuries. On first glance, he didn't see any.

"Helen, are you injured elsewhere? Do you feel any pain?" he asked

"My head hurts," she said groggily.

"I imagine it does."

"John…" she said again, her voice hazy.

"Yes?"

"Where are your clothes?"

He laughed. Helen Magnus, ever the pragmatist even amidst the direst of circumstances.

"Unfortunately, my dear, I had to shed them in order to rescue you. But if the sight of me in my drawers unnerves you, I shall redress before we depart." He turned around and put on his pants and slipped his shirt over his shoulders.

"Better?"

She nodded. She was confused, disoriented. John was certain she had a concussion. Better to get her back to the Sanctuary as soon as possible and get her a thorough examination. He clutched her shoulder, preparing to teleport her. "Hold on my dear, I'm taking you home." He pulled the energy into himself, focusing on his destination and…nothing happened. That same sensation descended on him, like a shield blocking his escape. He closed his eyes and tried again. This time, the sensation grew even stronger, as though it were fighting against him.

"Damn it," he said again. It seemed the only words he knew today.

"John?" Helen looked up at him. "What are you doing here?"

He ignored the teleportation problem for the moment and returned his focus to her. If they were going to be here awhile, he needed to know the extent of her injuries. "Do you know where you are?" he asked.

She turned her neck and looked at the water, eyes squinting in pain.

"Sabak Ha," she said.

"That's correct. Do you remember what happened?"

She turned back to him. "I went into the water to retrieve an injured Keek'enkay, but it was already dead. It was lying on the ledge and then….," she trailed off. "I can't remember. How did I get from the water to here? And what are you doing here?" she asked again.

"Saving your life."

She looked at him, puzzled, but her eyes were clearer. That was a good sign.

"Your staff lost contact with you. I came to see if you were all right. Obviously, you were not."

She tried to sit up, and then fell back down, her head pounding.

"I wouldn't do that yet if I were you. You have a nasty gash on your forehead and a concussion, I'm sure of it."

"Yes," she said with an exasperated sigh. "I fear you may be right. Can you teleport us back to the Sanctuary?"

"I would love to, my dear, but unfortunately I am not able to do so at the moment."

She looked at him confused. "Why? What's happened?"

"I'm not sure. I had trouble getting here. Almost didn't make it. And now trying to teleport back out…." He shook his head. "It's odd. It's as though there's an energy of some sort blocking me."

"An EM field?"

"No, it's not the same."

Helen looked up at the sky. The clouds were growing darker, the wind was stirring, and her head was pounding

"The tropical storm. It must have changed course."

"Indeed it has. Heading our direction, or so your Mr. Foss told me before I departed. Helen, really, what were you thinking?"

"John.. .not now," she said, closing her eyes in pain and to avoid further discussion.

"Coming here alone? A storm bearing down on the Caribbean? You're smarter than this," he said, shaking his head.

"I had a window of opportunity. A very narrow one. I took it," she snapped back with as much heat as she could muster given her circumstances.

"Well, regardless, we must leave. And if we can't do it the old fashion way, we'll drive. Where's your car?" Druitt asked.

"I have a jeep parked in the bush over there," she pointed with her head, regretting the movement in hindsight.

"Good. Then stay here. I'll take the equipment to the jeep and come back for you. And whatever you do, don't move!" John directed her.

"I don't think I'll be going anywhere," Helen said, holding her head and trying to keep the trees from spinning.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Where the hell is he?" Will asked over the Skype call, pacing his hotel room in L.A., his hair sticking up from the dozens of times he'd run his fingers through it.

Henry was seated at the computer in the Sanctuary tapping his foot nervously. He looked at his watch and then turned his head to stare at the monitor tracking the hurricane. It was making its way fast toward the Yucatán coastline.

"I don't know." He turned back to Will. "It's been 40 minutes. We should have heard from him by now. Hell, he should have been back here by now. It doesn't take Druitt that long to zap in, grab the doc, and zap out."

Will nodded. "Unless he's having trouble finding her," he said softly.

Henry swallowed. He'd thought of that too. The damn sink hole was 500 feet deep and more. What if she'd sunk to the bottom? What if she was hurt? What if?

Suddenly the Sat phone rang. Henry tripped over the monitor cables to reach it. Will sat staring at the web cam, heart racing.

"Henry," Foss answered his chest pounding.

"Mr. Foss, I have Helen. She's alive." John Druitt said.

Henry's knees buckled. He closed his eyes and muttered, "Sweet, Jesus, thank you…." Henry turned to the web cam and said, "Druitt's got her. She's okay." Will fell back on his bed, hands on his face, finally feeling as though he could breathe again.

"I didn't say she was okay, Mr. Foss, I said she was alive."

"What?" Henry asked, his heart pounding again. He heard Magnus mutter in the background. He could make out three words. "Give me that!" Will popped back up, staring into the camera. "What's happening?" he asked. Henry looked at the monitor and shrugged.

"Henry, it's Dr. Magnus."

Henry closed his eyes again in relief. It was the doc. It was her voice. She was alive. And she sounded pissed. That was such a good sign.

"I'm fine, Henry," she looked pointedly at John. Druitt rolled his eyes. "Just a slight bump on the head."

"Oh Doc, thank God! We hadn't heard, and it'd been 40 minutes, and …jeez…we were starting to think the worse."

"I'm fine. Really," she shot Druitt another warning glance. He waved his hand at her and looked away.

"John can't teleport out. Something is blocking him. Do you have any idea what that might be?"

"Can't teleport out? What? Like an EM field?" Henry looked at Will. Will raised his hands and mouthed, _"What's going on?"_ Henry motioned for him to hold on.

"No, not an EM field, at least not a manmade one. Something natural. Perhaps the storm is causing it?"

Henry scratched his head. "Yeah, sure, it's possible, but I've seen Druitt do his trick in all kinds of nasty weather. It might make it a little bumpy, but it's never made it impossible. He can't teleport at all? Even within the area?"

Helen looked at John. The volume was up loud enough for him to hear the conversation. He shook his head.

"No," Magnus said. "Henry, I'm afraid we're going to have to drive out. Maybe if we can get further away from this location whatever is blocking John's ability will dissipate."

"Oh doc," Henry said, walking toward the satellite image of the hurricane spinning toward Mexico. "I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Why? What's the matter?"

"The storm's picked up speed fast, and it's heading right toward you. It's gonna be on top of you in 12 hours. You need to take shelter."

John heard Henry and turned to Helen. "Are there any towns between here and Merida where we could stop, presuming I'm still unable to teleport?"

"One," she said. "About 10 hours from here if we gun it. It'll be cutting it close," she replied.

Druitt smiled. "Ah, but you're so good at cutting it close, my dear."

She ignored John's verbal jab. "Henry, we're going to make our way to Tecolote. It's about 10 hours from here…we'll try…"

The signal faded.

"Magnus? Doc?" Henry yelled into the phone.

He turned to Will. "The signal cut out."

"Call them back. See if you can boost it or something," Will said over the web cam.

Henry did. It didn't work.

"It's dead. Just like all the other equipment. Damn it! What the hell is going on?" Henry looked at the screen.

Will shook his head. "Henry, if you don't know, then we're definitely SOL."

"Frak!" was all Henry could manage.

* * *

"What happened?" Druitt asked her watching Magnus play with the controls of the Sat phone.

"The phone cut out. The battery is charged," she said looking at the display. "We just lost the signal."

"The storm?"

"Perhaps."

"Mr. Foss told me that after you went into the cenote, he lost all contact with you. Phone, GPS, whatever other toys you and your staff have, all stopped working," Druitt told her.

"Really? That's odd." Helen looked up at the graying sky and the swaying of the trees. She sat in the driver's seat of the jeep. Druitt had packed the last of her equipment, and she had changed from her wet suit into a t-shirt and khaki shorts. They were ready to go. "It's cloudy, the wind is definitely picking up, but we haven't even had an electrical storm yet."

"Yes, it is odd. But no time to dwell," John said, prodding her. "We best be on our way if we're going to make it to that town of yours before the storm hits. As it is, we'll be racing it all the way."

"Yes, you're right." Part of her hated the fact that she was leaving, particularly without the Keek'enkay. It might be dead, but it was so rare, just to have the body to examine would be of benefit. She started to put the key in the ignition when John put his hand on hers.

"Helen, you have a concussion. Do you really think you should drive?"

"I'm fine," she said looking at him, her head pounding.

"Helen," he cocked his head at her. It was a look she knew all too well, one appealing to her sense of better judgment.

"Very well," she said, pulling the key out of the ignition and slapping it into John's open palm. He couldn't help but smile. In 130 plus years he'd never known a woman as stubborn and independent as Helen Magnus. It was part of her allure.

Druitt walked over to her side to help her out of the jeep, but Helen was already stepping down when he got there. She seemed to lose focus for a moment, stumbled, and he caught her.

"Are you all right?" he asked, concerned.

"Fine. Just a bit dizzy. Stood up too quickly." The trees were spinning again. She closed her eyes to try to center herself and to keep from vomiting on what was left of John's clothes. He looked at her face. It was ashen. She was anything but fine. Without bothering to ask, John scooped her up and carried her over to the other side of the car.

"John, my legs are not broken. I am perfectly capable of walking!" she protested.

"It's not the walking I'm worried about, Helen. It's the falling down," he said, and plopped her rather ungraciously into the passenger seat.

He returned to the driver's side, put the key in the ignition, twisted it, and…nothing. The motor wouldn't turn. He looked at Helen and her at him. Druitt sighed, turned the key again, and…nothing. "Bloody hell," he muttered.

He jumped out of the jeep, threw the hood open, and peered at the engine.

"Were you having any problems with it before?" he yelled to her, head hidden under the hood.

"None." She replied. "If you like, I can come take a look…"

"No!" he leaned over to meet her eye to eye. "You stay put," he said, pointing a finger at her. "Please," he smiled, trying to soften his plea.

"Fine," she said. He had a point. Her head was throbbing, trees were spinning, and she felt like bloody hell. But John was a philosophy and ancient history major, pre-law, not a mechanic. And for a flickering moment she wished she was stranded in the Mexican jungle with Nikola.

After several minutes of muttering and prodding, John poked his head out cautiously. "Helen, I am man enough to know when I am confounded. If you are physically able, would you review the matter to see if you can find anything that I might have missed," he said in his most gentlemanly of manners. In 130 plus years she'd never known a man quite as charming as John Druitt. It was part of his allure.

She got out of the jeep, more slowly and carefully this time, made her way around to the engine and checked the battery, the starter, the alternator, the carburetor. Everything appeared fine.

"Well, without tearing it apart, which I don't have the tools to do, I can't see anything wrong. I don't know why it won't start."

"That was my assessment as well," Druitt said.

He shut the hood and Helen winced. It made her head ache even harder.

"You know, John. If I were to theorize, I would say it's as though something is conspiring to keep us here," Helen said, scanning the thick growth of trees and vines surrounding them.

John nodded. "Indeed. I was beginning to have the very same thought."

"We aren't getting out of here. Not yet," she acknowledged reluctantly.

"Apparently not," Druitt concurred. "Therefore we need to find shelter, and soon." The trees were beginning to whip in the wind. They could hear thunder in the distance now. Sprinkles of rain had begun to fall.

"All right, let's think," Helen said, leaning on the hood, her head throbbing, her forehead dripping with a mix of sweat and rain. "What do we know about the area surrounding cenotes?"

"They're caves, which mean there could be a cave entrance nearby. They were a primary water source for the ancient Maya who often built cities, temples, dwellings in close proximity. They were also revered as gateways to the underworld. Gods and demons supposedly dwelled in them," John's knowledge of ancient history was coming in handy now.

"I'd say we have a demon here," Helen replied, attempting a joke.

John smiled. "Indeed. So, Helen, if you were an ancient Maya and this was your water source, where would you build your city?"

Helen looked around. Nothing but the cenote and jungle. Nothing looked out of place, except…

"John, look over there," she pointed to a spot on the other side of the water. "Do you see it? The white gravel? Most of its overgrown but…"

"A sacbe, a white way. Good eyes, Helen!" John complimented her.

"Do you think it might lead to something?"

Druitt nodded. "Most of the sacred roads did. They were paved with white limestone so that they could be travelled at night, especially under a clear sky and a full moon."

Helen looked back up at the sky, which was growing angrier by the second.

"We won't have that luxury tonight. Best grab what we need and see where the white way leads us, shall we?"

"After you, my dear," John said.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Helen and John followed the white gravel stones like a trail of breadcrumbs through the Yucatán jungle. Druitt had grabbed what supplies he could from the jeep, insisting Helen travel light given her injury. The wind had picked up in earnest, whipping tree limbs and leaves in their faces as they trekked through the muddy ground. The rain, which had started off as a soft, warm sprinkle, was falling steadily now, pelting at them like an angry Mayan god.

After nearly half an hour of walking, they reached what looked like a limestone outcropping covered in vines. No temple. No city. No ancient ruins. The white way simple stopped.

Helen slipped the pack off her shoulders and sat down, the rain drenching her, her head throbbing.

"It's a dead end, John," Magnus said, holding her head in her hands, her mood souring with her growing pain.

John set down the supplies he was carrying and walked closer to the massive stones, gazing at them intently. "The Mayans never did anything without purpose, Helen," he replied.

Druitt walked around the boulders, which towered a good 15 feet over his 6'4" frame. Most of them were covered with dirt and moss. If he hadn't glimpsed the top white stone, he might have thought he'd walked into a dirt wall, so hidden was it by the surrounding jungle. He turned a corner and felt a gust of air coming from behind a spot covered in pink flowering vines. John pulled back the vines and stared.

"Helen? I presume you have a torch in your pack?" John asked.

Helen looked up and answered him through the mounting rain. "Of course, why?"

"Because I seem to have found our shelter," Druitt said.

* * *

The cavern was massive. Water dripped from its porous limestone ceiling forming small pools of clear liquid that dotted the floor. Stalactites clung desperately to the roof, some dropping all of the 20 feet down meeting stalagmites and forming massive columns that rose up like giants in the darkness.

"This is incredible," Magnus said, scanning the cavern with her light revealing formation upon formation. "Look, John," she said, flashing her light toward the back of the cavern, "There's more fissures back there. This cave system could go on for miles."

"It very well could," Druitt agreed.

"Do you think the Maya used this as some sort of ceremonial place? Why else would they create a white way from here to the cenote?" she asked. "John?" she called out when he didn't respond.

"Over here." She saw his light in the distance and followed it and the sound of his voice.

"Look," he said to her when she walked up beside him. He flashed his light on a particularly large formation dripping with water. At the base of it sat 9 idols with amphibian like features and long fangs.

"Do you know who it is?" Helen asked.

"Chaac," John said, examining one of the statues. "Mayan God of rain."

Helen bent down to get a closer look. "It looks like an altar of some kind. There's pottery, grindstones….gifts to the God?"

John nodded. "It would seem so."

A drop of water hit her head. Then another. And another. She flashed her light upward. The water was seeping faster now. The storm outside was intensifying.

"John," she said, pointing her light toward the ceiling. "There's more water coming in from above. This cavern may very well flood in a heavy rainstorm. We should get to higher ground."

"You're right." Druitt stood up and scanned the area looking for a ledge, something they could move to.

"There," he said. "Do you think you can climb that?"

She nodded. "Not much choice, really."

They worked their way up the limestone ledge, John taking the bulk of the supplies and Helen following after him. It was high and flat, a good place to build camp and wait out the hurricane that would soon be pounding the Yucatán peninsula.

John pulled out Helen's sleeping bag and unrolled it urging her to lie down. He'd watched her throughout the day. She would deny it if he asked her directly, but she was fading.

"Do you have any dry clothes?" he asked, concerned about the dampness of the cave and the extent of her head injury. She shook her head. She reached for the medical kit and her canteen and swallowed four more pain pills. "You know, you've had too many of those on an empty stomach, Helen. You should eat something. I assume there are provisions in these packs?"

"Over there," she said, flashing her light on a green back pack. He opened it up and handed her an energy bar. "There's a lantern too, if you need some more light," she told him. "And a fire starter, some dry kindling, and a small pack of wood. It won't last long, but it should help warm us a bit, save our batteries for a time."

John nodded. Helen Magnus was always a woman prepared.

He worked on the fire. She reclined on the sleeping bag, back against a thankfully dry section of limestone wall, doing an inventory of their provisions. When John had finished, he unpacked his duster across from her and laid it on the floor, making a makeshift bedroll for himself. He looked across the firelight at Helen. She lay against the wall; eyes closed now, long brown hair in tangles around her. Even in her disheveled, injured state, she was beautiful.

"You should move closer to the fire, Helen. Try to get warm. Dry your clothes," he urged softly. She opened her eyes and nodded, scooting her bedroll underneath her and moved up to the fire. It'd been a long time since John Druitt had seen Helen Magnus in firelight.

_It was Christmas, 1886. Helen had come with John to Newcastle to meet his parents. Long after his mother and father had retired, John laid awake in his room, fire dimming, thinking of Helen, his future, what their life would be like together. He would propose to her in early spring. He'd already informed James and Nigel. He'd even found the perfect ring. He just needed the money to pay for it._

_A quiet rap on the door, and John rose to open it. It was her. Blonde curls hanging carelessly down her back, across her shoulders. Her white gown, decorated with lace at the wrists and neck, made her look like an angel in the dim light of the hallway. She smiled at him, that full on mischievous smile she sometimes wore. "Look outside, John," she whispered. "It's snowing!" John turned around to see puffy flakes of white drifting silently past his window. "So it is," he said, turning back around, returning her smile. He wanted her so badly. Needed her so much. "Come and watch it with me a while?" he asked, his voice breaking, his heart pounding. She smiled at him, knowing full well where this night would lead. "Of course," she said, and took his hand. The firelight danced across her golden hair._

John looked up, shaking the memory away. Helen sat across from him, her sleeping bag wrapped around her for warmth. Her bandage, he noticed, was sopped with blood.

"Helen, you're head. It's bleeding again," Druitt said. She reached up to touch it and pulled her hand back down her fingers red. "Damn it," she cursed. She reached for the medical kit but John was already beside her. "Let me," he said. He held one hand on her cheek to steady her, the other dabbed the blood away. "This needs stitches," he remarked. "I know," she concurred.

He knelt, bare-chested, in front of her, his shirt hanging loosely on his shoulders. He redressed her wound, gently brushing her hair out of the way to do so. His hand was warm against her cheek, and his breath caressed her face. The quiet of the cave, the firelight, the sheer proximity of him sent a shiver through her, and she closed her eyes to steady herself. After all these years, after so much that had passed between them, how could he still affect her so?

He cleaned the wound, packed it with gauze, and sealed it with tape. He leaned back to look at her. "There," he said, smiling and brushing Helen's hair gently out of her eyes, lingering perhaps a moment longer than was necessary. She thought he was done when he reached up and took a strand of her hair, holding it loosely in his hand, gazing at it.

"When did you change your hair?" he asked quietly, caressing the brunette strands between his fingers.

She was thrown by the question. "Years ago, why?"

"Just…curious is all," he said.

"You don't like it?" she asked, not fully knowing why she asked or of what consequence it should be to her what John Druitt thought or didn't think of her choices.

"No, I do. It's beautiful," he said softly. "But it was beautiful when we were young as well. I only…wondered." Then he let the strands drop, and moved back to his side of the fire.

"Thank you," she replied. She didn't know what else to say.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

They ate dinner in silence. With camp set and no immediate threat before them, they had nothing left to discuss. After a time, they found conversation in inconsequential things: the cave formations, Mayan cosmology. Then graver matters, such as why John couldn't teleport. (He tried several times with the same results.) Once the storm passed, he would try again, and then they would know with certainty whether it was a natural phenomenon or something sentient keeping them here.

After another bout of uncomfortable silence, John spoke.

"Helen, what did you do with the ring?" he asked.

Magnus looked up at him from across the dimming fire, taken aback by the sudden change in subject. "What ring?" she asked knowing full well what Druitt meant.

"The engagement ring I gave you," he answered softly, his expression unreadable.

Helen looked down, averting his eyes. "John, that was years ago…" she said, avoiding a direct answer.

"Ah, so it was," he nodded. "You know, I purchased it at Hampton & Sons in Mayfair in London. James helped me pick it out."

"Watson?" Helen asked, surprised. "He did?"

"Indeed he did," John answered a slight smile on his face.

"He never told me that." She wondered what else James had never said.

"Well, that's because he had another picked out for you. A sapphire stone with diamonds surrounding it. But I," he paused. "I was very specific on what I wanted." He looked up at her. "Do you remember what it looked like? The ring?"

She gazed at him, her voice quiet. "It was my engagement ring, John. Of course I remember."

"Certainly, my apologies," he responded, subdued.

They were quiet again.

"Diamonds…." John started.

"With an opal in the center," Helen finished.

"That's right," he nodded. "The opal was said to be the stone of healing, hope, and most of all love. The love of faithful lovers." He looked at her.

Helen swallowed. "I remember. I understood the significance."

Once again, they grew quiet.

"You know," Helen started. "I often wondered how you paid for it. All of your father's money went to your schooling, and you earned so little as a clerk."

"True," Druitt laughed.

"I even wondered if Nigel stole it for you," she said, smiling.

John shook his head. "No, No, I earned it. Boxing."

"Boxing?" Helen said stunned. "You never told me that!"

John smiled again. "Hmm, well, it was a secret between the four of us. Watson arranged the matches, assessed the competition, and helped me with my strategy. Nikola did what he did best, stirred the crowd and gathered bets. And Nigel, well, let's just say that if things got out of hand, I had a mysteriously quick left hook."

Helen laughed.

"I earned the money in three weeks, and then bought the ring."

"And James, Nigel, even Nikola helped?" Helen asked, astounded.

"They did." Druitt answered.

"So the tripping? The supposed scuffles you got into that winter in the Oxford courtyard? The mysterious bruises on your body? Those were...?"

"Boxing," he said, smiling at her.

She nodded. _Boxing._ The thought of John fighting to earn enough money to buy her an engagement ring left her with an aching inside that she couldn't ease. This last hour with him had been…surreal she thought. John acted and spoke so like the man she had fallen in love with, it was almost unbearable to be so near him.

"You know," she said, feigning fatigue. "I think I'm going to try to get some sleep." She couldn't talk with him anymore. It was stirring up too many memories, too many feelings that were best left to rest.

"Is that wise Helen, with a head injury?" Druitt asked, concerned.

"It's fine, John. I won't lapse into a coma. That's an old, medical myth. In fact, some sleep would do us both good, I think. We have a lot ahead of us tomorrow to figure out."

"True. Just the same, I think I'll stay up a while longer. You go ahead and sleep. I have some things on my mind that I'd like to…sort through," he said.

She crawled into her sleeping bag and turned away from him. She didn't ask what thoughts he had that kept him awake.

* * *

Magnus woke in the middle of the night to darkness, dreams of John, Ashley, Whitechapel, the Cabal scrambled in her mind. The images were hazy, lost in the cusp between sleep and waking. She felt confused, dizzy. Her head pounded and her stomach lurched. She was going to be sick.

She grabbed her flashlight, scrambled out of her sleeping bag on hands and knees, and hung her head over the side of the ledge, retching. In an instant, Druitt was by her side. He pulled her hair back and held it while she continued to vomit until there was nothing left.

When she was done she sat back. John handed her a towel and she wiped her face and mouth with it. "Here," he said, passing her the water. She took a swig, swished it around her mouth, and spit it out over the side. Then she drank.

"Thank you, John," she said, still shaking.

He put his arm around her, brushing the hair out of her eyes and stroking her long locks with his fingers.

She knew she should tell him to stop, but the sensation was so calming, so soothing, she closed her eyes and let it go.

* * *

The next morning Helen awoke with her head on John's chest. She raised it too quickly, forgetting the wound she'd suffered the day before, and dizziness overtook her once more. She closed her eyes and steadied herself, then opened them again. He was asleep, his eyes shut, his naked chest rising and falling in peaceful slumber.

"_I should leave," Helen said quietly, her back against John's chest, the blanket pulled up around them like a cocoon. "Not yet," he whispered in her ear. "It's still snowing. You don't want to miss the snowfall." She giggled. "It's been snowing all night, John. I think we missed quite a bit of it already. Besides, your parents will soon be up and the servants. The last thing they need to see is a potential daughter-in-law sneaking out of their son's room. They'll think me a harlot," she said grinning._

_John propped himself on one elbow and looked down at her, smiling. "And what, pray tell, makes you believe they would consider you a potential daughter-in-law Miss Magnus?" he said teasing her. She flipped onto her back and wrapped he arms around his neck. "Oh, I don't know...Perhaps it's the fact that I've already made up my mind that you should marry me, John Druitt, since you've already taken liberties. You owe me a great debt," she said, teasing him. He looked down at her, his eyes glistening. "I owe you a great debt indeed my love," and he leaned down and kissed her fervently. _

Helen shook off the memory, and made her way to the edge of the ledge scanning her surroundings with her fading flashlight. They'd been right to seek higher ground. The storm had flooded the cavern below, the water at least three feet deep beneath them.

"Do you think it's over?" John said walking up beside her, gazing at the water with his light.

"The storm?" she asked.

"Yes."

"I would think so by now," Helen answered.

"I tried to teleport. It's still there, the shield, the force, whatever it is that's blocking me." He sounded frustrated.

"John, I've been thinking about it, and I have a theory. What if the Keek'enkay isn't the only Abnormal here? What if those statues you found, the Mayan Rain god is real? At least in a sense. A real force that lives in Sabak Ha?" she said.

"Why would it keep us from leaving? What would it want?"

"Perhaps what all gods want," Helen answered. "Tribute."

"Come again?" John said.

"The Keek'enkay was shot. It died in the cenote. I went after it to retrieve it. This power, this force that dwells here, it wouldn't know that I wasn't the one responsible for the creature's death or that I was there to save it. All it might think is that I took its life."

"So it attacked you out of vengeance? Protection?" John replied, following her logic.

"Perhaps, and now it won't let us go until it gets what it wants," Helen answered.

"Tribute."

"Yes. An eye for an eye or some such thing."

"But what kind? If it's human sacrifice, neither you nor I are volunteering," Druitt said.

Helen shook her head, scanning the cavern with her dimming torch. "I don't know what it wants, yet, but I'm hoping the answer lies somewhere in here."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

John and Helen made their way down the ledge and into the watery cavern below. The white way, the sacred road, lead from the cenote to this cave. It couldn't be a coincidence, Helen thought. If something was alive in Sabak Ha, then the answer to what that something was and what it wanted lay somewhere within these caverns.

They waded back to the altar they'd found the day before. The water diverged around the formation, leaving the nine idols of Chaac, the rain god, intact and unharmed.

"Nine idols," Helen noted. "Is there significance to the number?"

"You know how Mayans were about numbers, Helen" John said. "Five and 20 were sacred numbers, but sacred to man. Five fingers, 20 fingers and toes….Thirteen represented the Mayan gods, but nine…." Druitt smiled.

"What?" Helen asked.

"There were 13 Mayan gods of the upperworld, but _nine_ Mayan gods of the _underworld._"

"And this cavern, the cenote are all entrances to the Mayan underworld," Helen said.

"Correct," John answered.

"There has to be something more here, John. The Mayans recorded everything. If they used this as a ceremonial place…" Helen started.

"Then they likely would have written it down. Documented it in some fashion. I agree," John finished.

"I'll check over here. You look over there," Helen directed him, pointing with her light. "If this was their ceremonial altar, their writings, their paintings shouldn't be far from it."

They trudged through the water scanning the walls and crevices surrounding the altar. After several minutes, John called out.

"Helen, over here!"

Helen followed the dim light of John's torch. "Look," he said, pointing to a large flat slab of limestone standing on end. "Does this look natural to you?"

Helen smiled. "Not at all. Shall we?" she asked.

"Let's," John replied. He pushed against it, and it opened, revealing another, smaller cavern within. "After you, my dear," Druitt told her.

Helen entered the room and scanned the walls with her light, John following behind. The cave was lined with Stucco, the walls painted in Mayan art. Muted colors of turquoise, brown, orange , and red surrounded them. Placed neatly on the ground were artifacts, statues of gold, jade, silver, amethyst, and turquoise. Painted pottery, carved wooden jaguar skulls, and incense, lay between.

"Look at these murals, John," Helen said, examining the paintings. "Mayan priests."

"Nine of them. And each one carrying an object to the water, to the cenote," John said, circling the room along with her. "Helen, if you're correct, if there is a sentient being in Sabak Ha, what would it want with bits of pottery and jade?" John asked, puzzled.

"I don't know," Helen shook her head. "But it wouldn't be without precedent. Aside from humans, primates, raccoons, even certain birds have been known to collect artifacts, jewelry, rings, and so forth."

"Helen, if this creature can naturally generate an electromagnetic field, it could have caused nausea, disorientation, even sickness among the people here. To appease it, they might have brought it gifts, sacrifices, so the sickness would stop. And in desperate times…"

"They'd sacrifice a human being, like at Chitzen Itza," Helen finished.

"Yes," Druitt said.

"So, what do the paintings tell us? What does it want from us" Helen asked, looking at them.

John stood beside her, staring at the murals. "Nine Mayan priests bearing nine gifts: gold, turquoise, silver, jade, amethyst, pottery, incense, jaguar, and blood," he said, naming the gifts the priest carried in the pictures.

Helen looked at the artifacts at their feet. "Tribute," she said.

"Tribute indeed," John agreed.

* * *

They followed the white road back to the cenote, their packs filled with each of the items shown in the paintings. The area was flooded from the storm. Whole trees lay on the ground. Limbs and leaves were scattered everywhere. But Sabak Ha remained eerily still.

"Well, Helen?" John asked when they arrived at the water's edge. "Do we simply throw the lot in or say a few words?"

"I have no idea," she said shaking her head. "But I am going to assume that whatever ceremony surrounded this was for the benefit of the Mayans, not whatever creature might reside here."

"However, there was an order to it," Druitt said, considering the paintings. "Perhaps it would be best to follow it?"

Helen nodded.

Gold, turquoise, silver, jade, amethyst, pottery, incense, and a carved jaguar skull. John tossed them into the center of Sabak Ha one by one, watching them sink into the murky darkness, giving each time to make its way to the watery depths.

"In the last mural, the priest held a knife. His other hand was dripping with blood," Helen reminded him. John nodded, pulled out his switch blade, and prepared to slice the side of his hand open, holding it over the water.

"No," Helen said, gripping his arm. "It has to be me, John. I'm the one who took the Keek'enkay's life, or so it believes. I'm the one who needs to give life back."

John nodded. Helen held her hand over the water's edge, John gripping it tight in his. He looked at her to see if she was certain. "Now, John," she said. Druitt nodded. He took the blade and sliced the base of her palm cleanly. She winced, but didn't look away. The blood dripped into the water, sinking to the shadowy depths below.

She pulled her hand back, wrapping it in what was left of her clothes. John moved to wipe the blood off his blade then hesitated, transfixed for a moment. Helen's blood. So rare, so warm, so beautiful….He turned away from her and licked the blade clean, his body shaking, then put it neatly away.

Within moments the water stirred, ripples of energy rose from its center. Waves formed from the core and pushed outward, splashing against the banks.

"What's happening?" John asked.

"I don't know," Helen answered honestly.

"The water bubbled and churned. The ground began to shake. A huge black mass emerged from the depths of the cenote moving up and up until all of Sabak Ha was covered in an inky, black darkness. Suddenly in her mind Helen heard a voice speaking, a thought cast toward her in Mayan.

_Puuts' ene'ex tu t's'u noj k'aax. Ma' sut ka wiche'ex!_

"John?" she yelled, the water roaring now. "Did you hear it? Do you feel it?"

"Yes," he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her away from the water's edge. "We have to go. Now!"

"But what did it mean? What did it say?"

"Run!" Druitt said. "It told us to head to the forest and run!"

"But John," Helen yelled, not able to keep her eyes off of the water, the creature, the energy, whatever it was that inhabited this place. "We need to find out…."

"No time, Helen. If we don't leave now, we might not get another opportunity. Hold on to me."

"But John…."

"Now, Helen!" Druitt shouted.

She threw her arms around John's waist, gripping him tight. She could feel the burst of energy pulsate from him to her. Feel herself dissolve into nothing, only consciousness. When suddenly, as quickly as it had dissipated, time and matter returned. She opened her eyes to find herself standing in the middle of her office in the Sanctuary, her arms around John's waist, his arms wrapped around her.

"Magnus?" Will said, dumbfounded. He dropped the stack of papers he was holding, letting them scatter to the floor. Henry jumped up from the computer console. "Doc? Oh my God, we were just getting ready to send a rescue team…."

"Magnus, are you all right?" Will interrupted moving quickly to her. She was wet and filthy, her clothes in tatters. Blood seeping from her hand, her head. John thought she never looked more beautiful.

"I'm fine, Will," she said, looking up at Druitt. "We're fine," she said, unaware that they were still holding on to one another.

"What happened? We've been trying to reach you for nearly 24 hours?" Henry said, coming from around the desk.

"I'll explain everything, I promise," she told Henry. She looked down and realized she was still holding on to John. She moved to let go when he stopped her, grasping her tighter.

"Helen, promise me you'll take more care. We need you. I..." He stopped, silent.

She nodded. Will and Henry traded a look.

"Stay, John" she said to him. "You should clean up, eat, get some rest…."

He looked at her, could feel his body responding to her. It was so very tempting…to stay…to wall himself away here in this place…with her. But he could feel the change beginning. His demon was returning. He was losing himself to it. The taste of Helen's blood had accelerated the transformation. Now, it was only a matter of time. Besides, he still had business in Morocco. And the act of a righteous kill might satiate him…for a time.

"Thank you, Helen," he said gathering all his strength to pull away from her, letting his arms drop and hers follow. "But, I have matters to attend to. I'm glad," he hesitated. "I'm glad that you are safe."

She nodded. "Thank you John, for everything." She felt hollow inside.

"Dr. Zimmerman? Mr. Foss? Will you please be so kind as to see that Helen's concussion is thoroughly examined? Don't let her fool you into thinking she escaped this adventure unscathed." And with a smile and a nod he was gone.

_'Unscathed.'_ No, Helen thought. She'd hardly done that.

* * *

Helen had bathed, bandaged, briefed Henry and Will, eaten, and was ready to retire. The thought of sleeping in her own, thankfully dry, bed incredibly beguiling. A gentle knock came at her door and she rose to open it. She smiled.

"Thought you could use some tea. Help you sleep," Big Guy said.

"Thank you," she told him. "That was very thoughtful of you."

"Do you need anything else?" he asked, lingering longer than normal. Magnus could see he was concerned. She put a hand on his shoulder and patted it. "I'm fine. Really. I promise. I will be more careful."

"Swear?" he said

"Swear." She told him, holding up her hand.

"Hmmph," he grunted. "All right. Goodnight then."

"Goodnight old friend," she said and closed the door.

Helen slipped off her robe and laid it on a nearby chair. She took the tea to her vanity and sat down to drink it. It was an herbal recipe that tasted of chamomile, lemon grass, and mint. The mere odor of it soothed her. She set it down on her desk, took up her brush, and began brushing her hair.

_He held the velvet box in his hand and opened it. She could see a ring, an opal in the center with diamond stones surrounding it. Her heart soared._

"_I promise to make you happy, Helen, for all eternity," he said._

Helen looked at herself in the mirror and set the brush down. She turned to her jewelry box, opened it, and removed a small silver key that hung on a thin silver chain. She took the key, reached down to the bottom drawer of her vanity, and unlocked it, pulling the drawer back slowly. Inside was a picture of her mother encased in glass, a packet of letters from her father that she had tied neatly in red ribbon, and a silk scarf from India, a gift from a cherished friend. She reached beneath those things and found what she was seeking. She pulled it out, and held it in her hand. It was soft and smooth, just like the day she'd received it. She looked down and saw the gold letters etched upon it.

_Hampton & Sons  
__London_

She opened it. A perfect opal, pink and oval, surrounded by tiny diamonds, as beautiful and pristine as the night he had given it to her. Tears welled in her eyes.

It had been early spring in London, she remembered. The roses were just beginning to bud in Regent's Park….

END


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